November 1999
by eternal obsession
Summary: The morning brings no tears for the guiltyBut brings soft rains for an innocent oneMorning brings appropriate eulogyBut the gallows hold pity for nooneThe Red Plague is spreading, can one unfortunate junkman save the planet? A 'missing' Martian Chronicles


November 1999: The Hallway

Two Martians sat in the antique rickety chairs that lined the dim hallway. Despite the cavernous interior of the worn redwood paneled hallway, the only sounds that dully pierced the uncomfortable silence were the sounds of the receptionist's glass liquid-filled tube gliding over paper and the hushed wheezing of one of the Martians. Somewhere in the shadowy hallway a faint tingle was heard. Without looking up, the receptionist announced that Mr. Iii was now ready to see the two waiting Martians. The older of the two female Martians stood up stiffly then paused to assist her offspring into the same position. The metallic scuttling of the golden toy spider as it obediently followed the young female Martian echoed in the almost empty chamber.

December 1999: The Red Plague

_Gaians._ The Gaians had come. Four had come a short time ago with the intention to take over Tyrr. That section of the rumors was always the same, always consistent. The uninhabitable planet was coming to destroy their way of life on Tyrr. The details of how this all came about and into common knowledge was unclear.

'Did you hear?' The Martians would silently ask each other.

"I heard Mr. Aaa and Mr. Ttt thought the Gaians were prospective members of the House. Ha! They mistook the Gaians for some of us!"

"I heard Mr. Xxx perished while defeating the Gaians right outside their traveling silver capsule. If I would have been there I would have taught the Gaians a thing or two!"

But soon the proud, patriotic rumors fell away and rumors of fear and distress filled the Martians' conversations.

"Did you hear? The Gaians brought a disease here. Bio-warfare! The young female they conversed with is deathly sick."

"I heard it is to become an epidemic! They are calling it the Red Plague."

These rumors fell on the not quite deaf ears of Mr. Jjj. As a traveling metal salesman he heard many of the rumors that were being tossed about. Mr. Jjj was a short and perpetually unfortunate Martian. Given two choices, he would consistently pick the wrong one. If there was anything in a room to stub a toe on, Mr. Jjj would find it. He was consistently in the wrong place at the wrong time. Always. Mr. Jjj was a junkman, or as he preferred his occupation to be termed, "a traveling scrap-metal salesman". He loved his job. He loved the feel of the scrap metal as he formed it into 1 cm cubes. He had recently purchased an unknown piece of metal from a group of Martian city officials. It was a risky investment, especially for his luck, as the silver cylinder was quite big and its origins were unknown. So far, nothing bad had come of it. The strange metal was just as good as any metal dug out of the sand by the stone beetles. The unknown metal was actually selling quite well. He turned metallic junk into useful items, such as the flame bird food and plant coloring he was presently selling. He traveled the winding tiled streets selling his perfectly cubed recycled metal. He called up to the windows of the delicately carved buildings, selling his wares.

"Blue flowers are the new trend! Drop a few Copper Nitrate cubes into your flower cage and all of a sudden you have a blue flower. It's the way to light up your living room's centerpiece!" If this advertising brought him little or no business on the next street he would try something different.

"Red is soon to be the _in_ color. Don't miss out on this chance for red flowers. Just a few cubes of iron will do the trick! These fantastic iron cubes will also feed your flame birds and keep them that flaming red color that you love! Get them while you can!" Eventually one color would make a hit and he would continue through the intricate maze-like streets until he either sold out his wares or it got too late to sell anymore. Usually it got too late. Red was the popular color the day he heard the latest rumor. He had been selling some of the unknown metal cubes to a middle-aged woman. As she counted out the coins to pay him for the metal cubes and as he rummaged around his not just slightly dented vending cart, she chattered about a rumor she had heard.

"I heard from Mrs. Zzz that Mrs. Vvv heard that the virus that grotesquely disfigured Skk, the young Martian who talked with the Gaians, does not yet have a cure! Isn't that awful? And there is even talk that the disease can kill! According to Mr. Iii, the cure could only possibly be found in the silver tube the Gaians arrived in! Unfortunately, the thick headed city officials sold it off to a junkman and they did not even record which one! Isn't that preposterous?" She stood waiting expectantly, her cruelly ruby mask hiding her quickly fading patience for a reaction.

Mr. Jjj, realizing that he must have frozen, thought fast. Could the metal cylinder he had bought be the cure? Could his streak of bad luck have finally come to an end?

He forced an agreeable chuckle that he hoped was the reaction she was seeking. Apparently satisfied, she laughed with him. She held out the coins. He suddenly realized he needed to save this unknown metal and sell it as the cure.

"I beg your pardon but it seems I have quite lost track of the time and I am needed urgently somewhere else," he hastily told her.

Mr. Jjj darted in the direction of his junk base, as he so fondly called it, under his latest customer's shocked and disapproving gaze. He had not realized the cart was so intractable until this moment. He had to fight the battered cart at every twist in the winding and unmanageable streets. Finally, breathlessly, he arrived to his junk base.

He worked all that day and the next without rest. When he had finished, he slept. Happy dreams of the maroon metallic powder filled pills saving lives and making him a hero flooded his unconscious mind.

The next day was filled with many trials. First, it was not easy to get his fellow Martians to believe that he was indeed selling the cure to the Red Plaque. Soon, city officials ratified his claims of buying the silver tube. A crowd of hopeful Martians swarmed around him, eager to buy his mystical cure. Soon little Martians fluttered about him singing their newest rhyme.

Out of the darkest canyon

The hope golden as it is

Luck as his new companion

Misfortune no longer his

The city officials briskly called together the Martians, explaining the cure was needed in other cities too. Unfortunately, Mr. Jjj had neither flame birds nor finances to travel to the other cities. Immediately grateful golden volunteers offered their coal red flame birds or promised to donate a sum of money to the cause. Mr. Jjj scratched the back of his neck and felt his mouth dry out. He never realized his financial situation would be announced to the whole city. His previous misfortune was eventually to be common knowledge.

Soon he was on his way to the other cities. He floated gently upon the canopy of someone else's flame birds to the cities that awaited him. Once he had arrived, throngs of Martians shoved their way to his cart and to his fantastic cure. He scratched the back of his neck and felt his mouth get dry, symptoms of embarrassment and anxiety he was quickly becoming familiar with.

When he arrived, without trouble, back to his home city, a crowd was awaiting to celebrate his arrival. Many made friendly remarks about his darkening skin, saying the tan did him good. He felt itchy and his mouth went dry at the compliments. Days passed and soon it became apparent to him that the itchiness and the dryness were not the side effects of being in public. His skin continued to darken, even though he was not in the Martian sun much. He always felt thirsty – as if all the canals on Tyrr could never satisfy his thirst. It was then that he realized that he himself, who had taken one of the cure pills, was sick with the Red Plague.

Eventually rumors trickled out about his condition. A few days later he found himself in the intimidating trial chambers being accused of abetting the Gaians by carrying the disease to all the cities of Tyrr. Mr. Ccc led the prosecutions.

"Mr. Jjj is on the side of the Gaians. He purposefully traveled through Tyrr to spread the Red Plague," claimed Mr. Ccc.

Mr. Jjj fought desperately with the hot-blooded and hardened jury to prove his innocence.

The investigator's searing spotlights, which shone upon him, burned his already charred skin, making his fight for innocence all the more difficult. Mr. Jjj's peers silently screamed shrilly into his brain and tore at his concentration. It was impossible to prove his innocence. The verdict was undisputed.

The rays of sunlight through the drizzling morning rain made the crystalline stands of the rope shine. The rays then continued to parch the skin of the already lifeless form of Mr. Jjj hanging from a tower, solemnly swaying in the breeze.

The morning brings no tears for the guilty

But brings soft rains for an innocent one

Morning brings appropriate eulogy

But the gallows hold pity for no-one

But the accusations and trials did not end at the hanging of Mr. Jjj.

"Mr. Iii is on the side of the Gaians too!" bellowed Mr. Ccc "he sent the Gaians to contaminate the inhabitants of the House and Mr. Xxx!"

"They were sent to me because Mr. Aaa thought they were insane Martians! I did not know they were Gaians!" Defended Mr. Iii fearfully.

"You are with the Gaians! You will destroy Tyrr and our way of life. You schemed with the Gaians didn't you? You are guilty! And so is Mr. Aaa." Mr. Ccc spun around, his loose clothes billowing, his face hardened and eyes afire. "You were in on it too weren't you?"

"No!" Denied Mr. Aaa, terrified of the blood-lust he saw in Mr. Ccc's eyes. "No! Mr. Ttt sent them to me. To contaminate me and my family. Mr. Ttt is with the Gaians!" Mr. Ccc twirled again to face Mr. Ttt.

"Aha! You are one of the Gainas too aren't you! Everyone who helped Mr. Jjj is guilty. You, who lent him the flame birds and you, who funded his trip are guilty too!"

The arguing and accusing went on for hours, then it continued on for days, weeks, months. Mr. Ccc twirled and spun and accused everyone. The Martians accused each other of being with the Gaians for fear they themselves would be accused. Mr. Ccc turned, neighbors blamed each other and a few more Martians died of the Red Plague. Mr. Ccc twirled around to accuse another, a friend charged another friend unjustly, and an additional Martian died. Mr. Ccc spun. More accused. Another died.

The cycle was endless. No talk of a cure was brought up due to what accusations would come from that. No solution was found. They accused, all falsely, and one by one they died or were left horribly disfigured. Unquenched rage burned in their hearts against the Gaians and against each other.

Then they heard the Gaians in the rocket, but it did not delay their accusations for long.

For our cause our fighting ceases

To fight for our revenge as one

Then shatter to our own pieces

Fight ourselves until we are none.

He turned. They accused. Another died.


End file.
